


F o u r : Turn My Headphones Up Real Loud

by happy_rascal



Series: Short Stories [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Harry, Fluff, M/M, Music, Smut, Sweet Creature, Tiny bit of Ziam like blink and you'll miss it, Top Louis, captain niall is slightly there too, musically pretentious!Harry, musically prudish!Louis, this :) fandom :) ruined :) my :) life :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 19:14:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14625255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happy_rascal/pseuds/happy_rascal
Summary: "I don't listen to music." Louis had stated a few months earlier, in front of a rather large crowd of new acquaintances at Niall's housewarming party. All but one person's mouths dropped. Stunned into silence, everybody looked to Niall, a mutual friend of Louis' and the large crowd of music lovers, for an explanation.OrThe one where Louis doesn't listen to music and Harry has a hard time understanding this fact.





	F o u r : Turn My Headphones Up Real Loud

"I don't listen to music." Louis had stated a few months earlier, in front of a rather large crowd of new acquaintances at Niall's housewarming party. All but one person's mouths dropped. Stunned into silence, everybody looked to Niall, a mutual friend of Louis' and the large crowd of music lovers, for an explanation.

"It's true." Was all Niall had as he shook his head sadly. He had tried to give Louis some back up as he attempted to claim that Louis didn't need to have musical knowledge in order to be liked. Which was true but he had just introduced a range of different people to one man who was lacking one major thing to have in common with other people.

One person in particular, however, was not only upset but rather more curious to find out why this man had such a dislike towards an everyday existence.

Everybody else that evening had moved on from their shock to find out that Louis was a stand-up guy. Funny, attractive, football fan, laughed like an angel and just all around lovable.

Zayn, for instance, had found his and Louis' love for taking aesthetically pleasing selfies and a guilty pleasure in wanting to have pursued a career in modelling.

Liam had found a common interest in meaningful tattoos and a particularly peculiar taste in coke and Bacardi along with a love of video games.

Ed: an appreciation for the more philosophical and deeper side of life. Steve: an appreciation for long hair. Olly: obscure dance moves and a quote-unquote 'embarrassing' past of wearing suspenders.

Niall had roomed with Louis in college and had been found screaming obscenities at the television one quiet Sunday evening as Ireland lost to England in a rather stressful game of football.

They bonded from there and their friendship grew into something spectacular as they tried to drink each other under the table and many, many pranks were pulled on poor, unsuspecting classmates.

When the subject of music tastes came up, Louis had been elusive on the subject and brushed it off but Niall was adamant to find out his opinion. He found out after Louis hadn't gotten laid one night at a party and had snapped, telling him he was going back to their dorm because he 'couldn't stand the fucking racket anymore'. He didn't mean to call it a racket it's just, he was drunk, so he didn't have full control of, well, anything. It's not about him hating music, he doesn't - it's him not  _listening_  to it, about him making a conscious effort to avoid abrasive basslines and meaningless lyrics.

You see, Louis had always somehow managed to ignore the music that blew out the speakers; all he had to do was find a good shag and a bedroom far enough away and he was happy. Plus, five or so shots of blueberry vodka can drown out any sound within a ten-mile radius.

But there was one person who followed Louis around for the rest of that night, mouth hung open, eyes blown wide with child-like curiosity: Harry. He would ask 'Why?' or 'How?' over and over again in a whisper and all Louis would do in reply, was just place his index finger underneath the man's chin and push up gently until the taller man clamped his lips together and his teeth crashed together with an alarming clack; he would then whisper to the man: "Close your mouth love, you'll catch flies." 

However, the curly headed man was still allowed to follow after him, repeating the same questions and getting the same reply every now and then.  Because maybe Louis loved to get close to this lad, see the flecks of blue in his green irises and his milky skin was soft and Louis had had a few so his train of thought was allowed to wander away from him a little bit. Every time the shorter lad got that close he would notice the taller lad's eyes flicker down, his breath hitch and his tongue dart out to swipe between his lips. It was the alcohol, surely.

It then all kicked off from there, a simple accident, really. It started out as just the fact Louis had been around Niall and so had Harry, the taller man keeping the forming tradition of following the older lad wherever he moved in the room. It was simply like having a little child asking him the wonders of the universe in a club or at a bar.

Then they had stumbled upon each other in a little café during their lunch breaks and Harry continued with his infantile attitudes and Louis would always indulge him but never give a proper answer. Soon, the pair had been meeting out of free will and self-planning ("Destiny be damned." Louis had said one afternoon to a laughing Harry). 

They had exchanged numbers and shared midnight texts and calls until one night, Harry asked to Skype (to which Louis enthusiastically agreed immediately but played it off really well if he did say so himself) and then their routine developed into an impressive one as the minute they were both in their respective houses, they would be calling each other to ask how their days went and swapping pleasantries until Harry got bored and continued asking questions in exchange for vague replies and casual gestures of the hand from the smaller lad. Louis quite enjoyed Harry's company. The taller man had started asking more questions than his usual two and soon, they both knew an alarming amount about each other.

It was obvious they were very close and very good friends. Even Niall begrudgingly accepted it (although he only gave up the mantle of 'best friend' because the two men, according to him, wouldn't confess their truer, deeper feelings for each other. No one knew what he meant).

Which brings us to the present where Harry has met Louis outside Louis's work on his way to the café and is walking beside him, asking new questions on the same subject.

"How can you hate music? The one thing in life that can bring people together? It has a power nothing else in this world does, the expression of one's thoughts, feelings, pure, unedited emotions. And you crap all over it?" Harry is astonished, offended even. He keeps walking, doing his best to keep up with the smaller man who has harnessed the power of Quicksilver as he dashes down the street, his suit flapping away from him due to the speed he is walking at making some kind of self-made wind.

"Music does not always bring people together, two genres can clash and then look what happens: fans fighting each other in the streets, artists fighting on social media. . . it won't ever end. Someone will always be there waiting to mock another's music tastes in favour of their own." Louis says, his icy blue eyes set in a frosty glare. "Anyways, I've never said I hated music, you're putting words into my mouth. I merely said I don't listen to it."

"But how can you possibly avoid it? It's in clubs, bars, adverts, TV shows, radios, stores, bleeding out of other people's headphones, elevators and restaurants. To name a few! How in the world can you possibly avoid listening to music? Did your mother never sing a lullaby to you?" Harry has spent, perhaps, a little too much time around Louis as he notices immediately how Louis' muscles tense at the mention of his mother.

Harry and Louis are not at that stage in their friendship where they can share past laments but from Louis' reaction, Harry has two pretty good guesses about Louis' mother. He doesn't ask. Instead, he changes his game plan. "Stop here for a second," the curly haired man demands, placing his hands on Louis' shoulders. "Do you hear that?" Louis looks around and hears car horns and angry yells from other pedestrians as they push past the men who have metaphorically stuck themselves to the floor. "That's the sound of the city. That's music in itself. Life has its own sounds, it doesn't need drums and a guitar to be classed as music."

"How very hippie-like of you, Harold." Louis murmurs, seemingly fixated on Harry's large hands that are gripping his shoulders.

"Hey! Don't call me a hippie as if it's a bad thing. Anyway,  _I_  think it's because you haven't listened to the right kind of music."

"Oh?" Louis snorts, a picture of pure dignity, "And you would know what kind of music is the right kind of music, would you?"

"No, stupid, you have to find out for yourself. That's the whole point. Look, when you're at parties do you ever find yourself nodding your head to the music or tapping your foot? Or even just thinking 'this song is alright, actually'?" Harry watches as Louis thinks, admiring the way his Nordic blue eyes dart from side to side like his brain has chosen sides and is arguing against itself.

"No. Never." The older man says and continues to keep walking.

Harry groans in frustration and starts catching up to Louis easily. Louis scowls at Harry long legs, cursing them for being so. . . long. "Never? Never ever ever ever?"

Louis whips around and places a slender index finger on top of Harry's lips, it's a bit of a stretch but Louis still seems to be in control of this whole situation. "Never ever ever ever." He replies gently, his hand slowly descending, across Harry's cheekbone, down his neck and down to his wrist; Louis curls his fingers around the other brunet's wrist. In a flash, Louis pulls Harry sharply behind him as he takes off down the street once more. The absurdity of this whole situation hasn't hit Louis yet and, maybe, it hasn't hit Harry, either. It's possible.

It's just, it's something he's wanted to do that ever since he first saw the younger man dancing on the homemade dance floor at Niall's place before they were properly introduced. Then it seemed he had ruined it by saying he didn't listen to music but, much to his jubilation, his confession only made him seem more interesting.

The little squeak that Harry let out as he is pulled around corners and across traffic lights makes Louis laugh to himself and only urges him on.

They arrive at the café a short while later, rosy-cheeked and giggling. They made their way to the counter and ordered their usual (a caramel Latté and a green Chai Tea along with a salad and a piece of Victoria sponge cake. No need for an explanation of who ordered what).

Leaning back in his chair, Louis waited for Harry to start his usual round of questioning. But they never came, Harry just stared across the table at Louis, his green eyes scanning every inch of his face. Louis squirmed under the attention but refused to say anything for fear of never getting to see the adoration in someone's eyes like that again. Plus, he could never look away, especially when it's  _Harry_.

Louis has grown possibly  _too_  attached to Harry at this point in their friendship but he refuses to acknowledge it. Maybe it's not a big deal. Maybe no one will find out. Niall always gives him this look that says 'I'm on to you' but he ignores it. Liam and Zayn always give him the same lecture on 'if it feels right, it's right' as they press their foreheads together and gaze lovingly into each other's eyes. He chooses to think of it as them reflecting on their own relationship.

Harry opens his mouth to speak, Louis attention immediately returns to the man in front of him. Their eyes meet for a second but Harry lowers his own before he chokes out a small: "Louis?" He looks so scared as if what he's about to say will make or break this entire set-up.

"Yes, love?" Louis leans forward, a sign for Harry to know that he's listening and he's not going to leave any time soon.

"You know how I'm writing my own music?" Louis nods, "Well I know you're not so hot on the idea of listening to music and I know we've only been friends for a couple of months but I trust you, Louis, I really do. So, that being said, I was wondering if you could perhaps listen to my newest song? I'm not overly confident with it right now and I need a second opinion. It would also be helpful if it was heard by someone who doesn't have a specific taste in music genres. It's okay if you say no but i - it would mean a lot to me if you agreed."

And, fuck, it hits Louis right then because it makes him think, makes him  _hope_  that Harry is a little too attached, as well. 

He knows Harry doesn't share his music with  _anyone_ until it's absolutely ready and he's absolutely sure _._ It's really an honour to be asked and Louis knows this, of course he does. He doesn't listen to music but he listens to Harry talk and he could do that forever, really. But then again, he doesn't listen to music, he wouldn't know where to start. How would he compliment it? Does he just have to say whether he liked it not? 

But he'll do it anyway because it's Harry, it's Harry who he's probably most definitely got a crush on, it's Harry who he sees in the future - his future - as a permanent fixture in his life. It's Harry with the tattoos and the hair and the dimples and the smile and the poetic optimistic view on life. So stuff not listening to music because it's all for Harry.  

"Okay," he says. It's easy as that. It's easy because of who he's doing it for. And there it is, the pure perfection that is Harry Styles lighting up like Times Square as Louis says one simple word like his entire existence had been balancing on that one answer. So, yeah, definitely worth it.

The rest of lunch passes and Louis and Harry separate with the promise of meeting at Harry's for dinner and music.

It's six o'clock and Harry's finished making dinner for the both of them, Louis is due to arrive any minute. Harry has a moment of panic, he asks himself:  _What if Louis doesn't want to come but he felt cornered so agreed? What if he doesn't show up? What if he doesn't like dinner? What if he doesn't like my music? Oh my god, he doesn't listen to music and I'm forcing him to listen to some - what if I'm the bad guy for making him come here?_

A few seconds later, Harry gets a text.

**From Sweet Creature x :**

**Hey, gonna be fifteen minutes late, got held up. I'll to be as quick as I can promise. See you soon x**

And Harry starts to hyperventilate because what if that's just an excuse to get out of it? What if he's going to send another text in ten minutes saying he can't come at all? Why did Harry even ask? He knew it would end badly. And why, oh, why would Louis send a kiss on the end of his text? Is he playing around? Does he do it with everyone? Is he trying to kill Harry with his kiss? Who gave him the right to do that?

Harry sends a quick reply saying that it's okay, he doesn't mind waiting. He's lying. Of  _course_  he minds because his burning confidence (not that he had much in the first place) about this evening has dwindled to an ember and that ember is slowly dying. But if Louis says he'll come, he'll come. Right? Right. He trusts Louis, he wouldn't be doing this if he didn't. He doesn't doubt his trust in Louis.

Thirteen minutes later, Harry's not counting though, Louis knocks on the door, his blue eyes staring back at Harry's green ones with excitement. So maybe he's not so scared about this, then.

They go through dinner with small talk and questions, finding out more and more about each other. Dinner is spaghetti for anyone who wants to know. 

Harry's apartment is big. Well, big enough for a recording studio, at least. So, yeah, Louis says it's big and Harry just shrugs bashfully. It's very cute.

Harry leads him down the hallway, giving a tour as he goes ("Honestly, Louis, having a guest bedroom with an en-suite doesn't make the apartment that big."). Louis' only seen the lounge a few times before.

Once they make it to the studio, Harry tells Louis to take a seat, put on some headphones and he'll begin. 

The song starts and the sound of an acoustic guitar makes its way into Louis' ears, it's foreign to him, but it's not unpleasant. Louis closes his eyes and sways his body gently, trying to find a beat or a rhythm to move to. Suddenly, Harry's voice bleeds through the speakers in his headphones and, okay, wow, yes that's something new and something he could listen to for the rest of time.

'Sweet creature'. The first two words Louis hears and he remembers finding the contacts on Harry's phone when they swapped phones for a day and seeing those two words glare up at him from the screen. Harry had blushed and told him it was no one but Louis had seen a glimpse of the last text sent and made a note of how it had been a useless fact that Louis had sent him at two in the morning but he didn't say anything. He felt a warmth flowing through his veins that day and he can feel it again as the words are repeated. 

Louis starts to think if this song was older, would his mother have sung this as a lullaby?

Harry is at the bridge and Louis' eyes open, to see Harry with his eyes closed and his face showing ultimate passion and love for his song. 

As the song comes to an end, Harry opens his eyes and yeah, Louis is gone for him. Emotions swirl around in his brain and through his arteries, it's almost overwhelming and Louis nearly cries. It's embarrassing, really.

Harry looks over at Louis and it's as if the roles have been reversed because now, Louis is sitting there with his mouth hung open and Harry sits there staring over at him through the glass. Child-like innocence washes over Louis as he wants to ask Harry to play it over and over again and maybe play some other songs as well but instead, he just sits.

And Louis understands the message, obviously. He's Harry's sweet creature, they argue about trivial things, such as music. . . but maybe, if music can evoke and express such raw emotions out of a person, music isn't so trivial. 

But Harry's telling him he's the one that keeps him from straying from the track, he'll bring him home. 

The blue-eyed man snaps back to reality when Harry walks through the door and over to him. He crouches down beside Louis' chair and looks up at him with uncertainty. And, no Louis will not have that. No way. 

"Well, what do you think?" The nervousness lacing Harry's voice is heartbreaking and Louis wants to sooth it away but, right now, he can't put any of his thoughts into words. He's trying and the more he tries, the more frustrated he gets when he can't and he feels tears building up in his eyes. "Was it that bad?" Harry tries to laugh it off but his laughs come out as choked out sobs as they leave his throat.

Louis shakes his head so violently, Harry's afraid it might fall off. "No, no, no. Of course not, it's just - god, Harry, it's so beautiful and I can't believe you let me be the first to hear it."

"Lou, I wouldn't let anyone else but you be the first to hear it. Especially when it's  _about_  you."

"So it  _is_  about me? I wasn't sure."

"Oh come on, could it really have been about anyone else?"

Louis thought back over the best few months of his entire life and he can honestly say he's never been that happy. 

The day they bought ice cream and Harry ended up with it dripping down his fingers, on his nose, in his hair and on his tongue as he tried to catch it falling any further while Louis tried not to let the sight before him create images in his brain he would definitely have to wank over later. They ended up in the men's room of a high-priced restaurant as they made Harry look more presentable, giggling the entire time at Harry's predicament. Despite only being in there no more than at least ten minutes, the men were forced to sit and order something because the restaurant wouldn't let them leave as they'd 'used the facilities'. Louis spent the rest of the afternoon pouting and grumbling about how unfair the whole ordeal was. He eventually stopped when Harry flicked his bottom lip and told him to stop being a baby.

Or the day when they spent the day at Louis' because he was sick, although apparently not sick enough to refrain from screaming at the football match on the telly with all the energy he could muster and all the volume he could conjure while Harry lay next to him rubbing his head and stroking his hair, eyes trained on Louis' perfectly sculpted face - his lips mostly but, hey, no one had to know. The shorter man had come down with the flu ("Hazza, I blame you because you had it last month and you're the only person I've talked to this entire time.") and he couldn't - or wouldn't, Harry's still not sure - get out of bed; so when he got the text from Louis telling him he was ill, he jumped off the couch in his own apartment and fled down the street until he got to Louis' building to make him some chicken soup and keep him company.

And the day Harry was forty-five minutes late to the café and wouldn't answer his phone so Louis assumed he'd been stabbed on the way there. He was seconds away from calling the police when Harry strolled in like he hadn't been the latest he's ever been and Louis yelled at him for about zero point two seconds until he engulfed him in a hug and didn't let go for another thirty seconds. Not that Harry was complaining. When demanded an answer, Harry said he had had some personal problems and while Louis didn't need to know the details, he did know that Harry need cheering up so he took the rest of the day off and they spent it at Harry's place, curled up on the sofa with tubs of Ben and Jerry's all around them with  _1O Things I Hate About You_  playing on the telly with  _The DUFF_  and  _Bridesmaids_  up next.

So okay, Louis is pretty much in love with this guy. Maybe smitten is the word to use, he's not sure. He just knows how amazing the lad crouching down in front of him is, he's a miracle and definitely shouldn't be crouching down in front of him.

"So what do you think, Lou?" Harry repeats again and Louis thinks he's going to combust because that nickname should  _not_  have that much effect on him but it  _so_  does.

"There are no words that I know that can describe how amazing that was. I'm speechless for, like, the first time in a while."

"Can you at least try?" Harry pressed further for an opinion, looking for something that Louis couldn't place so instead he settles for a more wordless approach. Surging forward, Louis presses his lips to Harry's and Harry sighs with relief as if it's what he's been waiting for this for a long, long time.

Louis pulls Harry up by his biceps and quickly, Harry finds his back pressed up against a wall. Long fingers make their way to Louis' hips and pull him closer so their crotches are firmly pressing into each other's, Louis groans and Harry takes the chance to deepen the kiss and slip his tongue in between Louis' lips. They fight for dominance and, in the end, Louis wins. 

"Louis?" Harry asks, half-way between a question and a moan.

"Mm?" Louis hums in response as he makes his way down to Harry's neck, sucking and biting as he goes.

"Fuck me." Harry can barely get the sentence out between moans and whimpers and when he does, Louis barely gives him time to finish his last word before dragging Hary out the room and down the hallway to Harry's room (which he remembered after being given the tour because he never knew when he'd need to know where that room is). Tugging on Harry's shirt as he walks backwards through the door, never breaking the kiss, Louis smiles against Harry's lips. He can't believe he's doing this and he's never been so ready for something like this before. 

The backs of Louis' knees hit the side of the bed and he not so gracefully falls onto his back, watching as Harry straddles his waist as his legs hang down off the side of the bed. Louis tugs at Harry's shirt and Harry easily complies with the silent order. Harry steps down from the bed much to Louis' dismay but when he starts pulling down his jeans, Louis is suddenly very okay with this idea and starts doing the same. A few seconds later, both boys are now in their boxers and Louis waits for Harry to move back over to the bed before he pulls Harry down and climbs on top of him.

Louis runs a hand down Harry's chest, inching closer and closer to the waistband of his boxers. Harry pulls Louis down by the neck for a breathtaking kiss and he wraps his legs around Louis' slender waist.  Suddenly, Harry jerks his hips up to meet Louis' hard-on with his own and, Jesus, if that boy keeps doing things like that, Louis won't last much longer and they've barely even started.

In return for the hip-jerk, Louis shoves his hand down the front of Harry's boxers and grabs onto Harry's dick. Harry groans at the feeling and Louis gasps because  _that_  is music to his ears and he's definitely going to want to hear that on repeat for the rest time. Louis had just started to form the thought of Harry moaning being better than Harry talking but then Harry says "Lou, please, please fuck me." Again, it's half-way between a moan and actual speech and Louis' finally decided that mix between speaking and moaning is definitely the best kind of music he could listen to. 

Louis doesn't say anything in return, instead, he looks at Harry and smiles; Harry can tell this smile isn't an obeying smile and he is proven right when Louis removes the bottom lad's boxers and lowers his head to the tip of his cock. He uses kitten licks a couple of times until Harry's fingers make their way into Louis' hair and push into his hair, Louis gets the message and sinks his mouth down until his nose bumps against Harry's skin. He moves up and down at a slow, lazy pace until he feels what must now be his favourite fingers pulling on his locks, signalling Louis to move faster. The older lad's speed picks up and Harry moans louder, Louis' name falling from his lips at one point and Louis is so overcome by this, he stops blowing Harry to kiss him passionately; the neighbours probably know his name quite well now but he doesn't really care.

Harry tries to push Louis back down to his dick but Louis bites at his neck, making him submit very easily. "Tell me again," Louis growls into Harry's ear, biting his lobe as he grinds down on Harry's crotch. Harry notes Louis still has his underwear on and that's not fair but he knows what Louis' asking for so he thinks it won't be long until he's just as naked as Harry.

"Louis, fuck me." Louis knows he's sure and doesn't waste a moment in pushing off his boxers while Harry reaches in his top drawer for lube and a condom. Once Louis is back to looking down at Harry, the curly haired lad thrusts the lube and condom at Louis, whimpering for him to 'get on with it, Lou'. Louis chuckles slightly but open up the bottle and pours some onto his fingers.

Louis wriggles down until he's staring at Harry's hole, at some point, Harry had apparently put a pillow underneath his hips and Louis smiles slightly, he is a bit fond of Harry. Scratch that, he is very fond.

Shaking himself out whatever that was, he moves his index finger closer to Harry's entrance and starts moving it, applying just enough pressure that his finger almost pushes in but not quite. Harry continues to moan and whimper as Louis keeps teasing him. Eventually, Louis presses against his hole and pushes in, pausing every now and then to let Harry adjust. Once Harry had adjusted, he moves in and out until he thinks Harry can take a second. Louis is halfway through scissoring him when Harry lets a loud cry followed by a 'do that again'. Louis does so a couple more times but stops as Harry breathes out "Louis, I'm close." 

Quickly, Louis removes his fingers, Harry letting out an indignant noise. Louis rolls on a condom, lines himself up with Harry's hole and slowly pushes in. And, oh god, Louis wants to stay like that forever, he continues to push until he's balls deep in Harry. He waits, lets Harry adjust and looks down at him, his curls are stuck to his forehead and his eyes are scrunched shut in a mix between pleasure and pain. 

Opening his eyes, Harry looks in Louis blue eyes, they're darker than usual, clouded by lust and Harry feel accomplished in knowing that he's the reason this beautiful man looks like that. Harry nods at Louis, telling him to move and Louis breathes a sigh of relief as he pulls back until he's almost out and then slams back into Harry. He feels Harry push back onto him and they work to find a rhythm, the sound of skin slapping on skin making a beat in the almost quiet room, the only other noise being the obscene moans passing through both men's mouths.

Harry winds his legs around Louis' waist, forcing him to go deeper; he reaches up and pulls Louis down for a filthy, messy kiss of tongues and biting bottom lips. 

Louis knows he's ruined for anyone else because Harry decides that this is a great time to flip them so Harry can ride Louis in the most indecently beautiful way. Harry's a bossy bottom but he's surprisingly submissive so this turn of events shocks Louis but Louis is definitely  _not_  complaining.

The heat in the room rises and Harry's cries of pleasure are getting louder, Louis will definitely never forget those sounds harmonising with his own moans as they both get closer and closer to the edge.

"Lou, I'm gonna - " Louis really wishes he could've heard Harry finish that sentence but he feels liquid dripping onto his chest and he stops thinking, choosing instead to look at the sight of Harry coming. Yeah, he's ruined for life. Harry keeps moving up and down for Louis's benefit, Louis thinks, but he's clearly tired and so Louis turns them so Harry is on his back again while Louis pounds into him a few more times until he's coming, too. Louis rests his head on Harry's shoulder as he comes down from his high and then gets up and throws the condom in the bin. He makes his way back to Harry's bed and crawls over him to get to the other side, he wraps his arms around Harry's waist and hooks his chin on the younger's shoulder.

He feels Harry's breathing slow down but not even out, showing he's still awake. A few more seconds and then. Harry turns around in Louis' arms, their lips almost touching and, even though they've just had sex, Louis still feels nervous being so close to someone so kissable. "Louis," Harry starts, almost like he's practised saying this, whether before or after sex, Louis couldn't tell but he feels his heart rate increase. The word 'Louis' becomes haunting, is it a 'Louis, this was a mistake' kind of 'Louis' or was it a 'Louis, let's be exclusive' kind of 'Louis'? Because yeah, he wrote a song about him but what if he only found the positive connotations of the song?

There's no nickname, there's no smile, there's no look in his eyes that give away what he's about to say. But Louis' not an idiot. He's not going to move a muscle unless Harry tells him to, he's not going to overreact because he doesn't know what Harry wants to say. He will  _not_  throw away happiness, he will not walk away because he doesn't want to hear a rejection that might not come.

"You're - you're not going to up and leave are you, you're not going to regret this? Because I care so much about you, it's almost worrying, really. I know I practically forced you to come here and listen to something you don't like, I know that makes me the bad guy here but I needed to tell you how I feel and that was the only way I could think of doing it. I'm not very good with words, I ramble and I bore people so music was the only way I could tell you everything. 

"Louis, you are the most beautiful, hilarious, sexy, lovable man I have ever met and I never thought I'd fall for a man with no music taste but you have very successfully taken my heart away and I'm gonna let you keep it. So please, tell me: did I force you to listen to something that you didn't want to do?"

Louis almost laughs at how ridiculous Harry sounds.  _Of course_  this man-child would be afraid that he had forced Louis into doing something he didn't want to instead of panicking whether or not Louis mirrored his feelings (although after what just happened, it's safe to say Harry might have an inkling). He gapes at the man next to him, it isn't until Harry has tears in his eyes that Louis realises he actually needs to speak.

"Harry, I wouldn't have agreed to anything if I didn't want to do it, you know me, I'm very stubborn when it comes to, well, anything. Your song was beautiful, I have never heard so much love spilt into one lyric than I did with your song. I'm glad you asked, I would do anything for you Harry and this was no big feat, I new I could handle it. I don't listen because. . .of family reasons - I'll tell you one day, I promise, trust me, the day I'm ready, you'll be the first to know. But I'll gladly listen to anything you offer me. I love you, Haz."

Harry blinks. "So you're telling me that all these months I've been trying to find out why, I could've instead been giving you songs to listen to?" He rolls onto his back and runs his hands down his face while Louis laughs heartily beside him, burying his face into Harry's shoulder to muffle the sound, the neighbours had heard enough noise for one night. Harry pulls his face out of his hands to look at the blue-eyed man with his nose pressing against Harry's collarbone. "I love you, Lou." He says with such fondness that Louis thinks he might explode or melt, either one. 

"Hey, Harry?" Louis asks timidly at around one in the morning, both lads already deciding that work will not be an option for them the next morning.

"Mm? What's up, Lou?" Harry asks sleepily from under Louis' arms.

"Can you - can you show me the song again? Maybe the others?"

"They're all about you, it's kind of embarrassing."

"Please?" Louis squeezes his arms tighter and Harry giggles.

"Okay, come on then." Harry starts to untangle himself from Louis' grip but Louis finishes the job and leaps out of bed and sprints down the hall to the studio before Harry's even moved, "Guess we're not wearing clothes, then." Harry chuckles - as if he's not the one to always get naked without a prompt from anyone ever.

"Nope!" Louis shouts from the studio door, making Harry laugh as he exits the bedroom.


End file.
